The Paths We Tread
by Zealous Writer
Summary: Lieutenant Nora Reynolds and Colonel Robert Mathers of the SGC flee through the event horizon as a strong bolt of lightning strikes the gate. They find themselves in an unknown world with no possible way of contacting Earth.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is very much a work in progress. Join me, readers, on this journey of discovery. You know as much about this story as I do at present.

**Edit 1: **I have added two additional paragraphs, a disclaimer, and moved my author note to the top where it should have been in the first place. I haven't done this in two years at least, so I confess that I'm a bit rusty still. There were very few changes made to the original text.

Some notes before you read: This story is set primarily in the Lord of the Rings universe, which is why I posted it here and not under the Stargate category. If anyone has questions or has not seen the series I would suggest visiting for a basic primer. Also, I loved both the books and the movies, so, when the time comes, I will be switching back and forth between book and movie verse.

**Disclaimer: **I own neither the Stargate franchise nor anything J.R.R. Tolkien and his son have created.

* * *

Reality is an intricately spun web of delicate silk, a staggering concept to even the brightest of minds. Each connecting thread represents a truth, yet what is truth? Who defines what is truly real? Here, I sit listening to the echoing song of a chilled spring rain. Somewhere else, the same me types her thoughts to a flurry of powdered ice. Here, I sit recording these words in eleven point Century Gothic, single spaced within a word processing program, yet, somewhere else, there is a bolder type face, maybe smaller, maybe larger, and italicized perhaps? Or, perhaps, on that silken thread, she chose the age old medium of ink and paper instead.

This is a chronicle of reality. A reality birthed from the spark of an idea. Here, it is ink and paper. Here, it was mulled in a quiet mind, stirred here and there by stolen moments. Somewhere else, _it is_.

* * *

Another unearthly wail cast a sheet of cold, torrential rain with an ominous yellow glow as a volley of energy disks erred away from the Kull's fleeing targets and scarred the toughened skin of an ancient tree. A uniformed woman turned and trained her weapon upon the scourge only to dive away from the onslaught of another.

"Reynolds!" She turned and scrambled to her feet. The voice of her Colonel strained against the downpour that had turned the dirt path beneath her feet into a rapid river of mud. Her only hope was that their pursuers would discard the chase, yet the Kull were resilient. Where she and her weary team stumbled and groped for life amidst the thick branches and undergrowth, the Kull stepped surefooted and unhindered. _'Lord, deliver me,'_ was her silent prayer.

The gate was in sight. Jamsa's taxed and tired form reached the DHD first, and his hands moved with well rehearsed speed over the symbols. Colonel Mathers dove to the right and Nora to the left where she raised her P90 to lay a curtain of cover fire. The rounds exploded like pins upon the Kull's sturdy armor, yet the creature came forward still at a pace unknown to the fittest Jaffa warrior.

"Reynolds, Go!" Nora dove onto the path, and a second wind stirred her toward the watery surface of the open wormhole as Rogers and Jamsa disappeared safely through.

Pain like a lance of white hot metal ripped through her shoulder, and she fell into the water. Hard hands gripped her and pulled her to rights. The wrinkled and worn face of the Colonel drew her onward as lightning forked bitterly through the roiling, angry clouds. They ran blindly now, closer and closer toward their only route home. A sword of blue white light struck the gate as she was pushed through the event horizon...

...Nora fell through clear open air, the rocky ground, speeding upward at a dizzying angle, engulfed her in blackness.

--

High upon the pinnacle of Taniquetil, Manwe Sulimo stood looking to the East with Varda by his side. "What do you see, my Lord," she asked of her husband. With her guidance, his gaze could pierce to the very depths of the sea. "I hear a strange music."

Manwe smiled, for, among the Aratar he was closest to the mind and thoughts of Iluvatar. His gaze fell upon the two men whose presence had formed such a beautiful melody, greater now in its true unveiling. "Our Creator has many themes still to shape the history of this world, yet some remain mysterious even to me," he replied. His robe, blue as the skies that he so loved, rustled in the winds of the Pelori. "Come, there is much to do. We must call our brethren together in council once more."

* * *

**Index**

The Stargate: A vast stone ring developed by a race of technologically advanced humans. The stargate was designed for instantaneous interstellar travel.

DHD: Dial Home Device. A second piece of technology designed to operate the stargate. A series of seven symbols entered into the device will direct the wormhole to connect with another gate.

Kull Warriors: A race of genetically engineered super soldiers.

Taniquetil: The highest peak of the Pelori, the mountain range that the Valar raised to protect Valinor from the assaults of Morgoth. Manwe and Varda make their home here where they can see and hear all that transpires in the East.

Aratar: The Eight greatest of the Valar, lead by Manwe and excluding Melkor who was just as powerful or more. The Aratar are Manwe, Varda, Ulmo, Yavanna, Aule, Mandos, Nienna, and Orome.

Iluvatar: The highest being of Arda's theology.

Lisa


	2. Chapter 2

**Edit 1: **As I write this, I'm hoping that the horizontal lines that separate these notes from the main text will show up. I thought that I had included them in my initial post; however, they weren't there. Writing in a word document seems a bit too much trouble at times, so I'm seriously thinking about switching back to html formatting.

The council scene has been slightly overhauled in order to incorporate what little information on the city of Valimar I was able to pull from _T_he_ Silmarillion_. So, the scene that is found here is my interpretation of the Ring of Doom.

The blessing of Ulmo has been moved to directly follow the scene at the hollow, and I have made several distinct changes. The mithril chain has turned into a braided necklace of dried sea weeds with a shell hanging on it. I thought it more fitting for a gift from the Lord of Waters. I was not happy with this scene when I initially posted it, but now that I've had some time to chew on it, it has improved.

Since it was a continuation of Ulmo's blessing, the closing paragraphs have been reworked to fit the new order.

In all, I am happier with this chapter now than I was when I first posted it :)

**A/N: **Another update so soon after the first...I hope I don't spoil anyone.. I sat through a four and a half hour exam this morning and had almost no ambition for homework when I got home, so don't expect treatment like this every week :) Also, these chapters are still in the process of being edited, so I may make changes after posting. All writers should know that their work is never really finished.

The resources I used for this came mainly from _The Silmarillion_, which I am rereading, and the Encyclopedia of Arda. The names of the Valar, as you can probably tell, are lacking the necessary accent marks.

I will beg now for no one to be offended. Colonel Mathers is a troubled man with bad experiences with religion. Coming from me, as the author, the term "bible thumpers" is in no way supposed to be a derogatory remark toward anyone (since I'm a bible thumper myself :)

Now I will address the gift given to Colonel Mathers by Ulmo. The Mithril chain symbolizes a gift of language, which allows him to both understand and be understood. I had battled with whether or not to add it into the text...perhaps in an edit if there is too much confusion...Nora will receive a similar gift before she returns to her body.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing.

* * *

The white wrought gates of Valmar opened onto the the hill of Ezellohar. The scars dealt to that treasured knoll by the evils of Ungoliant had been washed away by the tears of Nienna, yet the city of the Valar wilted beneath ages of lingering shadow. Laurelin and Telperion shone only as dim memories upon the white stone walls, walls that had once gleamed proudly beneath their boughs.

Orome galloped into the sprawling court upon Nahar, the gilded ivory of the Valaroma shining in the sunlight at his belt. The tinkling song of the city's many bells welcomed the Vala home. The huntsman of the Valar hastily tied his steed and turned his watchful eyes to Mahanaxar, the Ring of Doom, where his brethren gathered in a great council the likes of which had not been seen since the unchaining of Melkor. He mounted the white steps, His cloak, brown as the eldest forests of Arda, billowed about his booted feet, soiled with the fresh earth of the East.

The majesty of the fourteen thrones humbled even the grandest halls of Taniquetil. Manwe sat with a kingly grace upon his high seat, and the stars upon Varda's brow smiled down upon Orome as he entered into the hallowed circle.

"I have seen the Atani!" His declaration fell upon eager ears. Yavanna straightened, her willowy sorrel tresses, intricately plaited, fell across her shoulder to rest in her lap. The fragile blossoms cupped within her slender hands fell to rest upon the soft silks of her gown. The hewn form of Tulkas pinned the traveler with a curious gaze.

"What can you tell us of them, brother?" Nessa asked from her place beside her husband. Her graceful hand rested upon the arm of Tulkas, hoping to ease the anxious tensions she felt there.

"Their raiment is strange, as are their weapons, and I cannot decipher their tongue." Orome claimed his seat beside the master of dreams, and Irmo turned from his brother to acknowledge the young huntsman. Ulmo tapped a weathered thumb against the polished marble, his eyes a mockery of storm tossed waves. It took much to summon the sea dweller from his wanderings.

"Was their presence in Arda not fore sung? " Ulmo turned his gaze upon Manwe. The Lord of the Valar addressed the thirteen gathered.

"Long have I sensed a change in the music, yet I knew not what that change would bring." His eyes took on the far away look of one that dreamt as he sought for his Creator. It was long before he focused again on the gathered. "The mind of Iluvatar is shrouded in mist. Our Lord will not share this theme. It will unveil itself in due time." Vaire, the weaver of tales listened with avid attention. Beside her, Namo, the keeper of Mandos, turned to Manwe.

"You thought not to share this with me?" The Doomsman had long been deep in council with Manwe. Irmo stayed his brother's anger.

"We are not here to bicker. The Atani have come. For what purpose, we know not. This council must now decide what should be done to aid them." Manwe accorded his gratitude to Irmo and bid the gathered to heed his words.

"Let us look upon them with our own eyes." The voice of Este, long revered in the gardens of Lorien, spoke fleetingly to her husband. Irmo, the master of dreams and visions, spoke into being a vast and shadowed orb. With a gentle wave, the misty shrouds fell away. The three snowcapped peaks of Khazad-Dum gave way to the Dimrill Dale and fell to the sprawling banks of the Celebrant and the eastern foothills of the Misty Mountains.

Orome stood and approached the orb, "It is there." The hunter guided the vision to a short stony bluff sheltered by a nest of firs. A man, clothed in green, dressed the wounds of a woman. The midday heat saw droplets of sweat trickling from his bald scalp as he worked. Orome bristled at the sight of the smoldering embers of a dying fire. Surely they would rouse the attention of those scourges of Moria. "Let us make haste in our decisions, for I fear they will not long remain hidden from the goblins of Moria." Manwe nodded, and Orome took his seat once again.

Nienna rose at Iluvatar's silent urging, garnering astonished glances from her brethren. It took much to coax the mournful Vala away from her halls in the farthest reaches of the west. Her council was good for nought but the grief of the world. She extended a hand toward the orb and touched the vision of the daughter. "This one…her quest here sees both happiness and great sorrow…" The voice of the Vala wavered as her saddened eyes, blue as a deathly shroud, studied the Atani. The collector of tears turned to her brother. "I will guide her." Manwe nodded his ascent, and Namo summoned forth a quill and scrawled the pronouncement among his records. The ancient hidebound tome lay open upon his lap.

"What of the gifts of the Peredhil." All eyes trained upon the speaker. Varda stood, the starlight in her eyes never wavered.

"You would give to mere men the gifts of the first born!" Aule interjected. Anger erupted from the Valar. The outcry, however, was greatest from the master smith who had longed for his children to have such gifts.

The still and quiet voice of Yavanna called for silence, echoing the trill of Iluvatar, which all gathered felt and were ashamed. Manwe stood, and the orb vanished.

"If Iluvatar wishes it, so shall it be." He looked to Varda and read his answer from her starlit features. "They will be offered the choice of the Peredhil. Now, who will consent to guide the male?" A thoughtful silence reigned.

"Long have I tarried in the sea." Ulmo whispered, almost to himself, "I long to see the waters of the Celebrant once more. I will go." Manwe nodded, and Namo's quill scratched across parchment.

The encircled fell silent once more, and Manwe rose. "Let us now return to our halls. Thank you, brethren, for your swift attention." The Valar rose. Robes of many colors shone in the glory of the noonday sun. Manwe stepped down from his high seat and approached Ulmo. "My friend, tarry not in your mission." Ulmo clasped the arm of his friend. "Orome was wise in suggesting that the Atani would not go unnoticed by the Uruks of Moria."

"I will make haste, my Lord." Ulmo bowed and touched his forehead in a gesture of farewell.

--

Static…

"Rogers, Jamsa, report." Colonel Mathers stood, his booted foot resting upon an outcrop of moss covered stone. The meandering chatter of a river flowed haplessly below.

Static…

"Major Rogers, report."

Static…

"Dr. Jamsa, report."

Static…

He spat out a string of expletives as he pocketed the useless radio again and turned back toward the hollow. It was hardly a defensible position, but the shade of the firs provided relief from the mid afternoon heat, and the river brought with it a rush of bitterly cold water that was good for quenching his thirst.

He returned to the hollow where the figure of his young Lieutenant lay prone and tucked snugly against a short crag of grey stone. The nasty gash just below her hairline had finally clotted but would require infinitely better treatment than he was capable of providing. Sighing, he sunk down to rest on the soft grass beside her.

Mathers stared down into the burning embers of that morning's fire, feeling every one of his forty-two years. He closed his eyes, pretending for a moment not to hear Reynolds's haggard, pained breaths, and took stock of their situation. Radio communications were out, most likely due to atmospheric phenomena. The stargate was gone, surprising, yes, but not impossible for a technologically advanced society. His team had been separated. He had found no evidence of either the Major or the Doctor among the grassy foothills, yet Nora had been flung out right beside him, lying deathly still, her blood seeping down the burnt face of an exposed rock.

But, something seemed off…Any technologically advanced society would surely have discovered them by now. Looking at his wrist watch, he counted seven hours since Anubis's Kull warriors had ambushed their scouting mission on PXY-592. Mathers remembered again the torrential monsoon as he breathed the warm steadying air.

The river bubbled and frothed, and, silently, the essence of Ulmo rose from its heart to take his physical form upon the bank closest to the hollow. His sea green cloak rustled amidst the tall grasses as he approached.

Mathers tensed, his hand falling to the P90 at his side as he caught the faintest of footsteps. He released the safety and turned, peering through the branches to see a man cloaked and armored in mail the color of the sea. Mathers was filled with a great sense of dread in his presence. His eyes trained upon the large white shell upon his belt. The river swelled violently in reverence, it seemed.

The Colonel steeled himself and rounded the corner, his P90 raised and primed to fire. "I'd stop there if I were you." The man merely smiled, his dark hair blowing about his squared shoulders in the breeze. With a wave of his hand, the P90 melted away in a gush of salty ocean water. Ulmo spoke, and Mathers blacked out.

--

Another string of expletives colored the salted sea air as Mathers found himself standing upon the high rocky crags of a cliff. Waves crashed upon the shore beneath in a flurry of white foam spray. He surveyed his surroundings. The shelf of rock was no larger than the SGC control room while in all directions, the ocean spread to the horizons. Cramped quarters indeed.

"Welcome, Calminaion. I have encountered few Atani with heads such as yours." Ulmo laughed to himself, a deep, echoing laugh that brought the waves ever higher. Mathers cringed away from the rocky ledge. "Fear not. Your spirit is safest here. These waters will not harm you."

"What!" Mathers could hear little over the wind and the sea. He didn't believe in spirits and didn't hold with those who did, though his brother had tried diligently to get him back to church after the accident.

"You may call me Ulmo." The man introduced himself as he approached.

Mathers stared at the being, for he suspected now that he was not merely human. Ulmo moved to stand beside him, and peered out over the sea and into the west.

"You are a warrior, no?" Mathers peered over at Ulmo in suspicion. "And the woman was under your protection?" Robert snorted.

"She's an Air Force officer, a bit young, but she wouldn't have been assigned to my team if she couldn't do the job." He retorted, defending the young woman who reminded him so much of his Gina...

"Your nobles would allow a woman to advance in soldierly pursuits?" Ulmo smiled disdainfully. "Are they of little value in your world?" Robert's eyes darkened. The memory of his dead wife and her smiling visage wavered on the threshold of his mind. The shapeliness of her chin and the curls of her hair would lead none to guess that she had once served her country with honor.

"Our _women_," he spat out the word in mockery of the Vala's tone, "have the right to choose for themselves." Ulmo raised an eyebrow in question. "Now, where am I?"

"At the edges of my Kingdom. I am Lord over all the waters of Arda." He extended a hand with pride to the sea, and the waves rejoiced with the sound of his baritone.

"And the stargate?" The thought that they had somehow stumbled across a sect of ascended Ancients flitted through his mind, not for the first time.

"I have known no such term in all of my life, and I and my brethren were birthed before the making of the world." Robert scowled, muttering under his breath about religious nuts. If this were indeed an Ancient, he could see that it would be no help to him. Now, Reynolds was alone and vulnerable.

"Take me back."

"Come. I have something for you." Ulmo reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled from within a pallid green scapular of dry and braided seaweeds threaded through a small white shell.

Mathers shook his head. "Look, I'll tell you the same thing I tell to every bible thumping idiot that comes knocking on my door. I'm not interested! Take me back."

Ulmo reached out a hand and grasped the Colonel's shoulder, his eyes darkening as the waters below rebelled. Mathers quailed beneath the storm as the Vala whispered calming words in a fluid tongue. Ulmo slipped the symbol around the man's neck. "A gift from the Valar…the first of many." Mathers shut his eyes as a blanket of warmth surrounded him, "Eru has chosen you for a great work. I will guide you, Calminaion, worry not." The Vala's voice softened, and, laying a hand upon the man's forehead, he bowed his head and whispered a fluid prayer.

"I give to you the gift of language."

--

She stirred and settled again into the warmth of a bed of down pillows. Slowly, she opened her eyes and found herself in a hall lit with spun silver lamps that exuded a pale glow like no earthly light. A fire burned low inside a vast stone fireplace, and a kettle warmed upon the hearth. Tapestries hung from the walls, deep purples and mournful blues embroidered simply yet the design was intricate and most likely from the hand of a master.

She sat up slowly; her body still languished in sleep. A night dress flowed over her pale and scarred skin like water. She remembered nothing.

A door closed, and a woman entered. She was clothed in a simple gown of a sorrowful green, and her hair fell in charcoal ringlets to rest at her waist. She smiled upon finding her guest awake and bustled toward the bed.

"You have awoken! You know not the trouble I went through to save you." The woman took hold of her chin and tilted it upward, sad eyes peering into blank eyes. "Your memories will return in time. For now your physical body will heal best with your spirit settled here." A question formed on her chapped lips, yet the woman spoke again, "Do not ask me your name, for I do not know it. To me, you will be Eruaistaniel, from the tongue of the first born, for Eru sent you here."

"And what do I call you?" Her voice sounded raspy to her own ears, and she now noticed how badly she ached for a drink.

"I am Nienna, A Vala of Iluvatar." She drew a pitcher from the bedside table and poured a glistening liquid into a silver goblet. "Drink. It will replenish you." Nora took the goblet and sipped the sweet, heavenly nectar. Immediately, she was rejuvenated.

"Why am I here?" She asked. She felt oddly like she didn't belong, but could not recall anything past waking.

"Only Iluvatar knows. Though your melody is unfinished I fear. Rest now, and worry not. All will become clear in time." She took the goblet from her hands and returned it to the bedside table. Nora settled back against the pillows and turned to peer out a vast arched balcony at white sanded shores.

--

Mathers awoke to find himself back beside the river. He stood, feeling the shell resting warmly just above his heart. He could not begin to wrap his mind around what had just occured. Ulmo strode purposefully out of the hollow, carrying a role of linen bandages and a wooden vessel of water.

"I have cleaned and redressed her wounds. Her spirit is within Nienna's keeping now. There it will remain until her physical body has healed." His stormy gaze turned toward the three towering peaks above them. "You must flee from here"

"Run where?" Mathers demanded, "I found nothing here, not a soul for miles." Ulmo smiled and took hold of the expensive scanner the Colonel had taken from a pocket.

"Your sorcery will not work here, which is all the more reason for you to flee now while there are still several hours of daylight left." He pointed toward the mountains again, "The goblins of Moria do not venture out until nightfall. When Arien descends they will begin their hunt." Ulmo motioned him eastward where the river flowed onward into a green haze on the horizon. "Take her and follow the Celebrant. No more than a day's walk and you will come to the Western Marches of Lothlorien. There you will be in the care of the Eldar. I will be with you, Calminaion. Farewell." Ulmo retreated back into the welcoming waters of the Celebrant, and Mathers watched in awe as he shed his physical form once more.

* * *

Lisa

**Index:**

**Hill of Ezellohar:** The hill in Valimar where the two trees grew before their destruction.

**Valaroma: **The horn of Orome.

**The Ring of Doom (Mahanaxar):** The central court where the Valar held council.

**Atani:** Men

**Namo: **More commonly referred to as Mandos

**Choice of the Peredhil:** The choice of judgement offered to the half-elven. Will they choose the blessings of the first born or the bindings of the second?

**PXY-592:** A designation assigned to a planet within the stargate network.

**SGC: **Stargate Command

**Calminaion:** "Robert" translated into elvish. Taken from _. _

**Eruaistaniel: **"Lisa" translated into elvish. I am particularly fond of that name :) But, further into the story the translation of "Nora" will also be used. Also taken from _._

**Arien: **The sun

**Listing of the Valar (Lords):**

Manwe

Ulmo

Aule

Orome

Mandos

Lorien

Tulkas

**Listing of the Valier (Queens):**

Varda

Yavanna

Nienna

Este

Vaire

Vana

Nessa


	3. Chapter 3

**Edit 1: **Substantial edits made here. Hopefully I've spruced up the ending a bit and corrected most of the grammar, spelling, and style errors.

**"Denotes speaking in Westron"**

**_"Denotes speaking in Sindarin"_**

_Flashback or Vision_

**A/N:** A big thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Your comments are greatly appreciated. _tosses everyone big chewy chocolate chip cookies_. Chapter Three is here :) This will follow the same format as the previous two. I'll do some editing tomorrow and have a final copy up as soon as possible. I find I work much better that way.

* * *

  
Memories of the forgotten are indeed the most terrifying of all, and Nienna's lonely hall brought no relief from the nightmares that troubled Nora as she slept. The young soldier tossed fitfully as images of dark dreadful figures pursued her toward a shimmering pool of blue. She awoke abruptly, eyes staring wildly for the briefest of moments. Then her breathing slowed, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, disturbed by the memory of rain.

"Rain..." She whispered to herself, looking down at the moisture that remained on her fingertips. There was something there. Something she should be able to remember. She recalled that glimmering pool, and realized with a stroke of cold fear that she had seen it before.

Nora pushed away the confining furs and swung her bared legs over the edge of the simple wood framed mattress. Several pillows fell to the chilled grey flagstones as she stood. The white night gown fell to gently kiss the tops of her pale feet. Night had fallen, and outside the grand archway, waves lapped calmly over the sand and mirrored the diamond points of light above. One slender hand braced her against a pillar wound with ivy of stone.

"You would have cherished the view more deeply if you had seen it under the radiance of the Trees." Nora turned to find her host cloaked in grey. Her features had taken on a depth of sadness that seemed unfathomable. "I did not believe you would awaken so soon. Forgive me, for I have been in the halls of my brother comforting the grieving souls of Mandos." Nora turned back to the sea.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Trees were trees, were they not? And she knew not the plight of grieving souls, yet her own soul ached for that loving, merciful guardian, the memory of which she could not recall.

Nienna moved to stand beside her. "There is much you will not understand, dear one. Given time, you will learn. Come, you must be hungry." Nora was lead by the warm hand of the Vala through the half light of the silver lamps to a table by the hearth. A delicate and delicious aroma wafted upward from a steaming bowl of soup and a loaf of soft bread. She sat and ate slowly as Nienna's graceful fingers plaited her short burgendy hair. The silence was comforting, and as Nora nibbled the sweet bread her thoughts returned again to the dream. The pool and the rain she could recall, yet they still brought her no meaning. "What troubles you, Eruaistaniel?"

Nora set down her spoon and peered into the fire. That name, it was like the clear ringing of bells on a sunny morning, yet she could not remember her own. "A dream of something I feel I should remember." The fingers in her hair ceased to work as the Vala sought the mind of her Creator and the small corner where dwelled the conscience of the master of dreams.

"Irmo will come." She stated as her fingers once again took to the braid.

--

Mathers set the girl down and slumped to his knees in relief as her dead weight flopped grotesquely into the tall grasses. He had long ago stripped off his jacket and wore only his packed kevlar vest over a black t-shirt. Sweat trickled down his head and back and soaked the shirt through as the sun descended further and further toward the mountain peaks. The dense green of the forest loomed steadily closer, yet was still too far away for comfort. If only Reynolds was conscious and could walk on her own, they could have been sheltered there in half the time.

The shell of Ulmo rested comfortably against his skin, an ever present reminder of just how cracked up this situation had become. Beside him, the river, bubbled away swiftly toward the wood. He crawled over as his legs protested, cupping a handful of the cold water into his hands, he splashed the refreshing fluid over his face and the bare skin of his head before replacing the standard issue cap.

Standing upon the bank, his knees groaned and popped in protest to the movement. Away to the right he saw the blue meandering bank of another river flowing slowly toward the Celebrant. If it followed on its present course the two would meet somewhere within the forest.

The Colonel had resigned himself to the belief that Jamsa and Rogers had indeed made it back to Earth. Whatever had happened to the gate had occured just after he had pulled Reynolds through the event horizon. Now, he was no Carter; he had dropped out of physics in high school, but, he had read enough mission reports in his tenure at the SGC to understand that **insert proper four letter word here** happened when working with advanced alien technology. With a guttural growl of frustration, he threw the cap to the ground and rubbed his forehead with a weary hand.

--

The youngest of the three Feanturi strode quietly into the somber hall of his beloved sister. Dressed in the grey of his house, Irmo still shone with the splendour of the gardens of Lorien where he made his home.

The Atani woman was dressed in an elegant gown of a pure and soft blue, a change from the rough garb of men he had seen in the orb. She sat now on a delicate carved swan bench upon the balcony, her legs curled up beneath her dress and a book open on her lap.

"Has she not remembered?" Irmo inquired. His sister had kept him in council since taking the girl in, and he had been made aware of the loss of memory. He had seen many among the children of Iluvatar suffer so from a blow to the head.

"She remembers very little, yet she is troubled. Is there nothing you can do?"

"Perhaps, but I fear what effect it will have on her mind. The second born are a fragile race." He removed his cloak and gladly accepted a goblet of wine. "I will try."

Nora turned the pages of the old leather bound book with care. The script was unknown to her eyes, yet she found a hand drawn picture of two trees within. The skilled, graceful lines captured little of their true beauty, yet the reverence in which they were held was unmistakable. These were not merely trees, it seemed.

Looking up at the waves, she thought for a moment that she had heard a faint echoing refrain. The melody was distant and as clear as the purest crystal, the subtle harmony of the imperishable flame. There on the edges of the world, Nora beheld the theme of Creation, though she knew it not.

Irmo stepped onto the balcony to find her lost in her own thoughts. He heard not the song, for he had sung his portion of it long before the world was made. "Eruaistaniel, come." He held out a hand to her, and Nora looked up in surprise. She closed the book and took the Vala's offered hand.

_Flashback..._

_It was raining again. A hard sheet of cold droplets drilled into her back as Nora lay in the thick underbrush, her P90 trained on a Jaffa patrol. A Ha'tak vessel had landed in a large clearing not far away leaving SG17 cut off from the mining camp. They had lost contact with the commander of the expedition two days prior. Mathers motioned for radio silence and signaled for his team to move out..._

_"Fall back to the gate!" The roar of munitions fire almost drowned out the order as the Kull overwhelmed their position. Jamsa and Rogers fled first and Nora followed. Overhead, a squadron of gliders screamed and fired heated energy blasts into the thick jungle growth..._

Nienna turned away from the unbearable pain etched into the woman's features. It was necessary, yet tears came unbidden to the Vala.

_Vision..._

_Deep night had fallen upon the valley of the Celebrant, and Mathers had only just entered the protecting arms of the forest. The grey trunks of the trees, small yet in stature, but mighty nonetheless, provided a few minutes of weary rest. In the vast darkness of Moria, the Uruks stirred, their fetid hide fouling the once great kingdom of the Dwarves, yet did not venture past the Eastern gate. Alas, the unfolding tune turned toward the south and east. Pain crumpled Nora to the floor of the balcony as the leering head of a beast lunged forward, and her spirit fled in fright..._

Reynolds's body heaved, and the girl thrashed, vomiting what little food remained in her stomach. Mathers rushed to her and turned her to her side. She trembled violently and faught to draw breath. "Easy, Lieutenant." He whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder as the sickness eased its iron grip.

"Where am I?" She choked, her eyes, oddly blank, darted from the river to the grey trunks surrounding them. Mathers helped her sit upright, and she looked at him in confusion. Slowly, she remembered his name, yet she had hardly uttered it when loud, harsh voices pushed through the undergrowth. Mathers shoved the girl behind him as an orc thrashed toward them, a black smeared blade held fast. It snarled and lunged, catching Mathers unprepared. The colonel was pinned, struggling with the beast as the blade nicked a long gash across his upper arm. The wood reeked with the creature's stench, and heavy footsteps heralded the approach of several more.

Combat being second nature to her, Nora reached for the knife she knew to be harnessed at her side. Drawing the blade, she lunged, burrying it to the hilt in the creature's spine. It thrashed, shrieking in agony before falling limp. Her hands black with blood, she stumbled toward the P90 where it lay beside their vests, and, finding it primed, she fired as eight more lurched forward out of the darkness. The rounds echoed hollowly in the dense, ancient forest, an unnatural sound, yet they hit their marks. Nine bodies lay bleeding and broken on the forest floor.

Mathers shoved the dead weight of the orc away and stood to his feet, shaking slightly. He prodded the cut on his arm and winced as it burned. It was not deep, but it would need to be cleaned as soon as possible. However, he could attend to his needs later. Speed now was their only ally. "Let's get moving. There'll be more of them." He took his vest from the ground and ignored the sharp acidic burn as he strapped it on. Reynold's, however, wasn't moving. Robert turned to find the white faced woman still holding the P90, her hands visibly shaking.

"Lieutenant!" Silence.

"Nora." The name passed his lips quietly. She turned toward him, and he was again drawn to her eyes. They were different. Something was decidedly off. She appeared almost lost.

"I recognize that name." She whispered, dropping the P90 to her side as she peered at him. "Is it mine?"

Swearing mightily, the Colonel laughed bitterly as the reality of the situation hit him full in the gut. They were stranded. They had no access to the stargate and no way to contact Earth. Now, his only companion had lost her memory.

"Yes, it's yours." He said as he pulled the knife from the orc's back and wiped it clean. "Now pack up, we're getting out of here."

--

His cold demeanor ruffled her irritably, yet Nora felt a twinge of familiarity as she strapped the bulging black vest to her upper torso. An ache, heavy and solid, pulsed through her head, and the bound and bloodied wound upon her forehead smarted against the bandage.

"Here, you'll need these." He said, returning the knife along with a holster that carried her hand gun and zatnikatel. The single remaining P90 he kept for himself.

The moon rose further into the night sky only to be obscured by dense green canopies. Mathers cleaned the small wound upon his arm with the frigid waters of the Celebrant as they walked onward into the forest. The wound burned incessantly now, and the sweaty beginnings of fever grew as angry red lines snaked upward toward his shoulder and downward into his wrist.

"I'm sorry...I don't recall your name.." Nora's timid inquiry grated upon his nerves now more than ever. Not simply because she reminded him in every light of his beautiful wife, but because his vision had started to blur, and his stomach began to knot.

"Colonel Robert Mathers. I'm your commanding officer," he retorted as something whistled passed his face, cutting a thin scratch across his forehead before embedding in a tree. He raised the P90 as several armed archers appeared from within the trees themselves, it seemed. They were tall and fair of both skin and hair. Their beauty, however, did not mask their skill as warriors.

One stepped forward, a hand resting threateningly upon the long curved hilt of a sword. An icy gaze foreshadowed a firey tongue. **"We do not suffer strangers within our borders. Speak now before you meet your death."**

**"We were sent here to seek protection and proper medical attention."** The fact that he was speaking and understanding an unknown language was the least of his worries as Colonel Mathers wavered on the edge of consciousness. The world dimmed around him as the orc poison coursed within his body. **"One calling himself Ulmo..."** He faltered and collapsed. Nora lunged forward with a squeek of surprise, but was unable to save him from hitting his head on the forest floor.

"Robert..." She spoke his name as she turned him onto his back.

**"Stay your arms,"** Haldir ordered. The name of the Lord of Waters was never spoken lightly. **"Milady, please step away,"** he knelt beside the man, noting that his companion was not male as he had first believed. He, however, received no response except a look of puzzlement. Never before had he met one of the race of Man who did not speak the common tongue. Taking her arm, he pulled her away and turned her toward Rumil, noting her anxiety. **"Cover her with a cloak and return to the flet. We will bring the man."**

Orophin stepped forward, inquiring of his brother in the language of the woodland realm. Haldir moved to inspect the prone body, kicking away the strange weapon. They spoke together in quiet tones as his guardsmen awaited orders. **_""Tis Orc poison, brother. I am sure of it."_** Orophin said. **_"I could recognize the symptoms as I slumbered beneath the stars."_**

The Marchwarden's eyes narrowed. Unearthly noises in the night, strangers clothed in mystery and speaking the name of Ulmo. He beckoned for one of his Captains. **_"Take three guards and follow their trail. Keep a watchful eye for orcs."_** The guard bowed and took his leave as several of his guards hefted the unconscious man. He would need prompt care if they were to stem the affects of the poison.

Lisa


End file.
